


Beyond What's Allowed

by vials



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29076933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vials/pseuds/vials
Summary: The diner's mystery guest always wore the same outfit, always sat at the same seat, never ate anything, and remained hunched over his laptop for the entire time he was there. The staff speculate, but never dare to ask... and then one of them almost sees too much.Or, one minimum wage worker's encounter with what used to be Brian Thomas.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Beyond What's Allowed

The strange young man was back again, and this time Kirsty was out front when he shuffled in.

She had never seen him arrive before. She was usually on her break, or chatting with her friends in the back as they left their split shift. The diner was winding down; there was enough time to catch a couple of minutes to gossip or make plans, and customers rarely came in at this hour. If they did, they were usually grabbing things to go, and Kirsty wouldn’t see any actual dine-in customers until the truckers started coming through at two or three in the morning. Up until now, the young man had always simply been there as Kirsty came out of the back, and sometimes she got the impression that he had simply materialised in the corner booth, hunched in the shadows with the glow of the laptop casting the barest light on his face, though never enough to dispel all the shadows underneath the hood he kept permanently pulled up.

This time she had actually seen him walk in, and she immediately noted that the bell above the door didn’t register he was there. The door was automatic; the bell would sound when the sensor was triggered, but it didn’t trigger for this man. Instead he leaned his shoulder against it and pushed it open without a sound, and Kirsty pretended to pay attention to her colleague counting out the register while her eyes instead tracked him across the diner and to his usual seat. He barely made a sound as he walked, his feet silent where most people’s shoes would squeak against the linoleum, and when he sat down there was no creak of furniture or rush of air from the old seat cushions. It was as though the world around him was on mute.

“Josh,” she whispered, nudging her colleague. “Josh, _look_. Over there in the corner booth. Don’t make it obvious.”

Josh looked up at her, exasperated. “Kirsty, I was _just_ in the middle of counting—”

“The hacker’s back!” Kirsty hissed.

Josh straightened up a little, interested. Peering carefully over the counter, he glanced over to the booth and raised an eyebrow, before ducking back down and pushing some coins around as though he were still counting them up.

“Damn,” he said quietly. “You weren’t kidding. He really _does_ look like a hacker.” He laughed. “Should we be letting him use our wifi?”

“Like we would be able to stop him,” Kirsty said, laughing quietly. “Come on. I’ll take the bills, you take the change. I want to let the others know he’s here.”

It had been another one of her colleagues who had taken to calling their mystery guest _the hacker_ , because he certainly looked the part. He never lowered the hood of his hoodie, instead pulling it right down over his face so his eyes were cast in deep shadow. He always wore the same outfit, though somehow he didn’t stink to high heaven like some of the truckers who came through here; he always had a rucksack over his shoulder, out of which he pulled a clunky old laptop that looked as though it had seen better days but still seemed to run without a single problem. None of them had any idea what he did over there, because every time they came close he would tilt the screen slightly, not even bothering to be discreet, and it would be impossible to see what he was doing without literally sliding in to the seat next to him.

It wasn’t as though they hadn’t tried, either – Natalie was known for being able to sweettalk her way into any conversation or any booth, but she had reported that trying to do so with the hacker was impossible.

“He barely says two words,” she had said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t think he _can_ talk.”

“Natalie, just because a man won’t talk to you doesn’t mean he _can’t_ talk,” Josh said, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, maybe he’s just gay,” Kirsty teased.

“That would be just my luck,” Natalie grumbled. “He’s kind of cute. I don’t know, I don’t get gay vibes.”

“That’s because that’s not a thing, Nat,” Josh said.

“You just say that because I get _mad_ gay vibes from you,” Natalie teased, before threading a lock of hair through her fingers and shrugging. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it, but I think there’s something up with his voice. He doesn’t talk normally. He doesn’t really… make much sense. Don’t you think he’s a little weird?”

He certainly was a little weird. Kirsty worked night shifts, and she was usually the only person in front of house during the night. There was the chef in the back, and occasionally the potwash, if things required a deep clean, but usually it was only the two of them and Kirsty would be the only one with reason to be out at the counter. She served coffee and took orders for all day (and all night) breakfasts, she endured the truckers flirting with her for the decent tips, and she watched the hacker. He was by far the most interesting part of her shift, even if he only sat there and worked away at his laptop. He very rarely ate any food, but he did drink copious amounts of coffee, and that was the bulk of Kirsty’s interaction with him. She wouldn’t admit it to the others, but she got the impression that the hacker liked her best out of all of them. It was probably because she didn’t ever try to speak to him. She would just wander over with the coffee pot every hour or so and hold it up to signal she was asking if he wanted some more; if he looked at it, it meant _yes_ , and if he didn’t move his eyes from his computer screen it meant _no_. Perhaps some of the others found it a little rude or off-putting, but Kirsty didn’t mind so long as it made an easy customer. The hacker was perhaps the easiest customer she had ever had: low maintenance, and he always tipped. It was touching, in a way – Kirsty had long since had the opinion that he didn’t have much money, what with the battered old laptop and the wearing the same clothing all the time. Often the bills he left were scrunched up and worn, and sometimes she even felt bad for pocketing them. Work was work, but she did think that he could perhaps use the money a little more than she could.

Privately, she agreed with Natalie. The hacker was so silent that she thought it was almost unnatural; she had often got the impression that he couldn’t speak, for whatever reason. She didn’t know if there was a physical cause, or if he was perhaps autistic or something similar – she had heard that a lot of tech-savvy people were somewhere on the spectrum, though she wasn’t sure how true that was or if it was just another one of her mother’s facts that she picked up from less than reputable sources. Still, she had a couple of autistic friends online, and while the hacker didn’t fit the bill perfectly other behaviours – his silence, the way he never made eye contact, the fact that he clearly liked his routine – often made her think. For that reason, she was quite stern over the unofficial rule that the other diners leave him alone. Sometimes the regulars got curious; she always told them to give it a rest. She was curious about him. She didn’t want him getting scared off.

“Kirsty,” Josh whispered suddenly, nudging her. “Look. Are those video tapes?”

Kirsty glanced up a couple of times, once to look and twice to make sure. She frowned, quickly bagging coins, and then leaned down so she could speak quietly.

“I think so? What’s he doing with video tapes?”

“They look small,” Josh said. “Not like, VHS or anything.”

“Do you think it’s a project?” Kirsty asked. “Like, an art project or something? He kind of looks like the artsy type, don’t you think?”

“Explains why he’s such an oddball,” Josh laughed. “Art students are _weird_ , man. There was this one girl in my dorm who was an art major and she did the craziest shit. One time she rode one of the college bicycles around everywhere – you know the ones you can rent to ride around campus? She had one of those and she was on it all the time. Even in class, just parked up in the aisle on this fucking bike. Swear to god she even took it in the shower with her.”

“Come on,” Kirsty said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m being serious! She’d make him look sane.”

They both looked over again, something drawing their gaze. To their surprise, the hacker was looking right back at them.

*****

_looking_

_eyes_

_eyes on me_

_look back? look back._

_eyes gone_

_not really counting. not really. spying. spying? no. only curious. only curious._

_who? do they wonder? so bright. sees me. safe? safe. curious. never could guess. never could guess. too bright. shadows. not deep enough. eyes gone. closer. coming closer. no screen. no secrets. don't look don’t look don’t look_

_SHH_

*****

There had been nothing else for it – the only way to make it look like they hadn’t just been staring at him was to approach with the coffee, though Kirsty had some difficulty doing so that evening. She felt suddenly exposed, like he had known everything she and Josh had been saying, and while none of it had been insulting or _bad_ , she could at least appreciate that it was rude to be so openly trying to mind somebody else’s business. She had the sudden urge to apologise, but at the same time she didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that she had been doing it. What if it was a coincidence? What if he hadn’t noticed at all? She would only be putting her foot in it.

She never asked him about the first cup of coffee – it was always a given. Cautiously, she reached out and tipped the mug the right way up, finding she glanced at him a little more frequently this time. He ignored her, staring at the screen as though she didn’t exist at all, and tonight Kirsty found it more unnerving than ever. She had never fully appreciated his ability to make her feel invisible before; it was in a totally different way to how other customers might be able to do it. That was a wholly unpleasant way, a kind of deliberate snubbing, as though she were just there to ferry food and be at their beck and call. This was a much more neutral kind of indifference, like whatever he was doing was so beyond the scope of that little diner that absolutely nothing in it – not her, not even himself – mattered in the face of it.

Even the coffee didn’t seem to smell as strong here. Kirsty breathed in through her nose, slowly and deeply, trying to tell herself it was her imagination, but no. There was something covering the smell here, something that smelled familiar but at the same time alien: like the cold of a winter morning but deeper, like the air in her freezer had suddenly become the air all around her. It was a wild kind of smell, she thought – and despite the fact she had never experienced such a thing, she was strongly reminded of a forest in the dead of winter, the branches bare, the creeks all iced over. She could almost see her breath; almost feel the chill seeping through her thin uniform and numbing her fingers.

_Empty_ , she thought suddenly, though she didn’t know where the word had come from and now that she thought about it, she wasn’t even sure that it had been her voice that had said it. Her hand was beginning to tremble, and she had to reach over and steady her wrist in order to ensure the coffee didn’t spill. It seemed like an age until the cup was filled, and then she gratefully pulled her hand back and caught the hacker’s eye once again.

She could just make out the colour of them, green-grey in the light from the laptop. He looked young, no older than herself, though he was distinctly scruffy – he needed a shave, and there were deep, purple shadows under his eyes. Somehow she knew he had seen her hand trembling, how she had had to steady it; she gave an awkward laugh, needing to explain herself but not knowing why.

“Weak wrist,” she said, rotating it just for effect. “All that ferrying around loaded plates, I guess.”

There was no flicker of acknowledgement on his face; it was almost as though she had never spoken, but at the same time she got the feeling he was listening. It was unnerving, having him stare at her so openly – he had never bothered to make eye contact before, but now he had stared at her quite brazenly twice within five minutes. It made her uncomfortable, but she forced herself to swallow her unease.

_He’s clearly a little different,_ she reminded herself. _What if he wants to be nice, but he doesn’t know how? You could really upset him if you treat him like a creep. He might not know any better._

“Speaking of which,” she said, trying to get back into her usual peppy ease, “I don’t suppose you want anything to eat today, do you?”

For a long moment she thought there would again be no acknowledgement, and then to her surprise he gave the most minute shake of his head. She was briefly so stunned she couldn’t think of a response, but then she managed to catch herself and nod, smiling.

“I thought not,” she said. “Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Unbelievably he nodded, before looking back to his laptop screen. Kirsty stood there for a beat more, dumbfounded, and then turned and made her way casually across the deserted diner and behind the counter again, where she made a show of carrying the half-full coffeepot into the back as though she were about to refill it. As soon as she was out of sight of the dining area, she set it down and hurried through into the back, where Josh and Natalie were thankfully still hanging around and chatting.

“Guys,” she said, slightly breathless.

They looked over at her, and in the beat of silence Kirsty heard the beep as the machine registered Natalie’s fingerprint and clocked her out.

“You look like a bat out of hell,” she said, yawning. “What’s up?”

“ _He shook his head at me,_ ” Kirsty said, for a moment unaware of how crazy she must look. “And then he nodded!”

“Wow,” Natalie said. “So when’s the wedding?”

Kirsty rolled her eyes. “He’s _never_ acknowledged any of us like that before,” she said. “He was even making eye contact.”

“That _is_ pretty weird, from what I’ve heard,” Josh admitted.

“I didn’t even know he _could_ look you in the eyes,” Kirsty said. “Should I try and talk to him?”

“I wouldn’t push your luck,” Natalie said, going into the small cloakroom to grab her jacket. “We don’t want to scare him off, remember?”

For the first time, Kirsty found the idea ridiculous. She couldn’t explain it – maybe it had been that strange sensation that had come over her when she had been standing beside his table, sure she could smell the winter wind through the trees – but suddenly the idea of the hacker being frightened away from _anything_ seemed wholly impossible. There was something so solid in him, so unflinching – she had no idea what kind of person someone had to be to give that impression, but for the first time she was suddenly not too thrilled about being left in the diner essentially alone with him. It was with some unease that she waved her friends off ten minutes later, and when she heard their cars pulling out of the lot, she felt a sudden rush of envy.

Moving back through the kitchen, she waved to Kev, who was standing in the walk-in counting the stock. He nodded back, but clearly wasn’t in the mood for conversation – he was the kind of person one spoke to at their own peril when he wasn’t actively engaging the conversation first – so Kirsty had no choice but to make her way back through to the front. She paused for a moment in the doorway, looking over to the booth, but the hacker was hunched over his laptop again and seemed to be paying the rest of the world no mind.

_What are you doing?_ she thought, suddenly frustrated by the idea that she didn’t know. _What are you working on, hidden away over there with your tapes and your staring and your never eating?_

She couldn’t tell for sure, but she was certain that his eyes had flickered towards her again, and that his mouth had twitched, briefly, into something that looked like a smile.

*****

_knows_

_knows nothing_

_suspects. suspects._

_she can hear. she heard. she felt._

_many do. means nothing._

_danger_

_oh yes. danger._

_is she the one? or am I a monster_

_not her. not her. she must not know_

*****

The night passed unbearably slowly. It was the sort of night that Kirsty hated, despite the fact that on a busier night – or as busy as a night shift at a remote diner got, anyway – she would find herself wishing for a night like this. She leaned against the counter and played on her phone, her back to the security cameras, not that the manager watched them back anyway – Josh had started a conspiracy theory about the fact that the cameras weren’t even switched on, and Kirsty could believe it when she saw some of the things they had gotten away with out here – and tried to waste time as best as she could. It seemed nothing was happening online, either, as though the whole world had given up on the night and decided to try again in the morning.

She served a couple of truckers, though thankfully they were all normal and more interested in getting a quick, greasy meal and hitting the road again rather than flirting with her. Around every hour or so she would go and refill the hacker’s coffee, though there was no repetition of his earlier interest in her and she got the feeling she shouldn’t try to push it. She kept an eye on him as she usually did, curious as always, but he did nothing else unusual and the night passed like they always did with him – he sat and worked at his laptop, barely glancing up, and Kirsty went about her business and tried not to make it obvious she was staring at him. She found she was being a little more careless about it this time; she knew he was aware she was watching, and she supposed there was no point insulting his intelligence.

This time, she had noticed that his shoes were scruffy, and that they seemed to be covered in mud. She wondered where he had picked it up from, and then, like dominoes falling into one another one by one, she realised that they were on a stretch of road that weaved through dense forest, and that the only way to get here was to drive, and that no cars had arrived when she had seen him enter and for all the times she had seen him leave, he had never walked out to a vehicle and she had never heard one start up once he was out of sight. Her heard seemed to beat faster in her chest – the muddy shoes, the lack of a vehicle, the outdoorsy smell about him, the scruffy clothing. Was he living outside, in the woods?

A shadow fell over her and she jumped, straightening up and pushing her phone under the lip of the counter. Her customer service smile was already on her lips, and she had almost launched into the standard apology for not immediately noticing a customer when she realised that the bell hadn’t chimed over the door, and that standing in front of her wasn’t a new customer but rather the hacker. He had never stood this close to her before; she only ever saw him walking past, and up next to the counter he was taller than she had expected. His backpack was slung over one shoulder, and glancing over at the table Kirsty could see the bills neatly stacked, a clean mug weighing them down. He was on his way out, but he had never stopped before. He had always simply left.

Remembering herself, Kirsty managed another smile.

“Was everything OK for you?” she asked.

He watched her for a long moment, and Kirsty got the distinct impression he was struggling with something.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he said finally, the word a hoarse croak.

Kirsty could barely believe she had actually heard it. “I’m sorry?”

“ _Don’t_ ,” he repeated, a little more clearly.

“Don’t…?” Kirsty asked. “Don’t what? I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“No questions,” he said. Kirsty got the distinct impression that every word was taking an extortionate amount of effort; he squeezed his eyes closed, a wince passing over his face like he was in sudden pain. “You wonder. Don’t.”

“I—I mean.” Kirsty frowned. “About you?”

He stared, and then nodded.

“I’m sorry if I… caused offence?” Kirsty said. She had been stupid to stare so obviously, she knew – she should have kept it discreet, like she had before. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I was just curious, you know? You come in so late, and as you can see, we don’t usually get customers at this time…”

She trailed off, seeing he was shaking his head.

“Empty,” he said.

Kirsty felt her heart skip a beat. It was the same word she had heard earlier, somewhere deep in her head that she wasn’t entirely sure had still been part of her. Was it a coincidence? How had he known that was what she had heard?

“Empty,” he said again, no doubt seeing the look on her face. “Cold. You saw it. You felt it. Don’t. There is— _nothing_ there.”

He forced the word out, again seeming in pain. He winced again, bringing a hand up to press at his temple.

“See things,” he said, his voice hoarse again. “Terrible things. Look too closely, you can’t look away.”

“I—” Kirsty began, and then she saw the blood beginning to drip from his nose and gasped, taking a half-step back. “Are you—? You’re bleeding!”

“ _Listen_ ,” he said, leaning closer. Kirsty wanted to back away, but found her feet frozen to the spot. “Once you see, you can’t go back. _Once you see, you can’t go back._ ”

Tears sprang to her eyes; she didn’t know why, but it was all her body could think of to do. They stared at one another, and then he must have thought he had made his point – he pushed himself back from the counter and stumbled away, blood still dripping from his nose.

“Wait!” Kirsty hurried to the end of the counter, letting herself out of the latch door and heading quickly for the exit. “Wait!”

He paused, the door half-open, the breeze blowing in several dried leaves. He didn’t look at her, but his shoulders were hunched, as though he were already steeling himself against whatever she might have to say.

“Is that—” she began, before breaking off. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “Is that what happened… to you?”

He didn’t move.

“What did you see?” Kirsty asked, taking several steps closer. “What happened to you?”

He darted forward; quicker than she thought possible, he had slipped out of the door. By the time she went out herself – the door opening automatically for her, no problem at all – he was somehow across the parking lot, cutting over the deserted lanes and heading straight for the forest.

She watched him disappear into the trees with an urge to call after him that she didn’t dare give in to.


End file.
